2011 05 22
by ShamelessOCcentricity
Summary: That was my seventeenth birthday, which I spent hiking by a lake in Utah, sharing a peanut butter sandwich with a miracle man while his robot self burned in a boat below. Not the weirdest birthday I'd had, actually.
1. Chapter 1

I didn't believe in miracles. I prayed all day every day for weeks when my mother was dying of cancer, just like she prayed all day every day for weeks when my father went missing in Afghanistan, seventeen years ago, before I was even born.

Actually, it was my seventeenth birthday the day the first miracle happened. I was in my second year of university, way beyond all of my peers, and in an unfamiliar country.

When my mother died, I was carted off to live with my only living relations, my aunt and her seven children in Utah.

No, I have no idea what a bunch of nutty Catholics are doing in a state known for its Mormon population, but I do know I don't really make any friends living with "Bible-thumpers" as the people at the local Macey's (it's like Tesco for Americans) say when we walk in.

I grew up in a small town outside Bristol. I won't tell you which one, because Mary Sawyer can't be too common of a name in a town that size, even if it is Mary Theresa (Joan) Sawyer.

The Joan is a recent addition; I was confirmed in the Catholic Church last year. Does it count, being confirmed, if I think about my thesis when I'm in Mass and don't believe in a God?

My Aunt Margaret is so strict that when I mentioned Harry Potter (I _had_ to, I mean, Lake Silencio!) she was so furious she made me copy "I am the Lord, you shall have no other God than me" on a chalkboard over and over.

When I showed up here on Lake Silencio, I spent a lot of time standing on the huge cliff faces (not considering suicide, no matter what my cousin Catherine thinks) that overlook the water. There isn't much water here.

At home, we lived so close to the water we had a boat we went out on all the time. I love the water. Leave it to me, the only remaining family I've got, living in a desert.

Every week I drive out to the lake—I got this really old car from the money I got selling the boat—and hike up for miles.

It was April 22th, 2011, probably 5:30ish when I sat down to eat a crunchy-peanut-butter-and-marshmallow-fluff sandwich on a cliff face I probably shouldn't be on. The wind was rushing across the rocks, making stranger sounds than usual, and there was a funny orange glint on the water.

I'd actually just begun to wonder if there was something _burning_ in the lake when—

"Mind if I join you?" A young man asked.

I glanced up at him. He looked sad, even with a huge grin plastered on his face.

"Not a problem." I replied. "Who do I blame if you murder me?"

He laughed and flopped onto the rock beside me. "The Doctor. And technically, I'm dead. My body's down there, in a rowboat, burning. I don't exist in any database, because I'm an alien. That's my ship." He pointed behind us.

I glanced behind me and scanned the new addition to the cliff, a big blue box.

The Doctor grinned. "Do you believe me?"

"Well, there is a boat-shaped fire on the lake, that box wasn't here before, and you show no signs of lying." I said levelly.

"Ha! You believe me. What's your name?"

I don't know what made me say it, but—

"Mary Theresa Joan Sawyer."

I offered him a triangle of the sandwich. "Would you like a Crunchy-P-B-&-Fluff, Doctor?"

"Don't mind if I do."

We sat there watching the little boat burn in silence until I managed to drink enough water to speak.

"So… How exactly did you survive?"

"The body in that boat? Robot. Looks just like me, and since I couldn't avoid the fixed point that said I had to be there, 2011/05/25 at 17:02, I hung out inside the robot until it burned." He pointed to a sandy scrap of shore. "Those are my friends, Amy, Rory, and River." He chuckled. "River. She's there twice, you know. She killed me, _and_ she watched. She also married me in a world that no longer exists."

"And I thought my life was complicated."

"What's up with the extraordinary human life of Mary Sawyer? Who are you?"

"Well, my Mum died, and I got shipped off here to America, and now I live with really strict Catholics, and I'm in university even though I'm only seventeen, and my cousin is dying of muscular dystrophy and all my Aunt will do is pray. She's refusing to allow any treatments that involved stem cell research."

"Sounds like we're both a long way from home." He said, starting to lean back.

I stopped him. "Don't lay down on that spider. You'll crush him."

The Doctor watched me as I picked up the long-legged arachnid. "You save spiders." He said, sounding ridiculously pleased about that. It would be a long time before I understood why.

"Yes. Yes, I do."

"Good." He laid back and put his hands behind his head. Then, absently, "That's good."

I looked at the dark shapes as they packed up slowly and got into the red and white van. "Your friends are down there." I said. "Why don't you go to them?"

"They're all in danger as long as they know I'm alive."

I hate people in my personal space. I don't like strangers. I'm definitely not a cuddle person, or a conversationalist.

But I did reach out and take his hand.

"What's she dying of?" He asked an hour later, as the sun was setting.

"Muscular dystrophy caused by a genetic fluke. Her baby brother has it too, but he won't show signs for another few years."

"If you could save them—just them—would you?"

"I've met them. The other families who have it, you know? I couldn't. Why me? Why my family? I don't believe people deserve to be in pain for lack of faith, and I don't believe people deserve to be saved for faith alone."

"It's not just your family," The Doctor said. "It's two innocent lives."

My seventeenth birthday present was Cathy taking her first steps on her own in two years.

And the next night, when the doctors stumbled out of her hospital room flummoxed by her recovery, the whole family was praying to thank God. I sat by the window and looked up at the stars.

"Thank you."

X-x-X-x-X

"Hello, Doctor."

My voice is loud in the quiet side chapel. It'd be silent, actually, except for the sound of my breathing and the hum of electric lights.

"Four years ago today, you saved my cousins with a weird little medicine you brought out of your blue box. Catherine's getting married soon, this Christmas.

"I've got a thing… It's around the corner, a huge birthday banquet. Not my idea, but Catherine's an actress now, and she's famous already—after all, she miraculously recovered from a terminal genetic disorder four years ago.

"I'm pretty famous as well, a doctor. I'm an astrophysicist, and I also have a degree in psychology. Twenty-one years old, and I have eight years worth of college. They call me a genius in all these magazines.

"But I still save spiders. I still visit Lake Silencio every year on my birthday at 5:02. Sometimes I see letters for you laying there. I never open them, but they're there, usually just three.

"You probably can't hear me. Just come back.

"Come back for me, Doctor."

I picked up my clutch and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

I hate parties.

"Mary!" A woman, Lisa, I barely know said, steering me away chattering as warmly as she would an old friend. "How's astrophysics? Anything new?"

"Science is rather slow moving," I said, smiling.

"Oh, of course! Well, this is Debra and Josephine."

She nodded to the mother-daughter pair.

"Debby, please," The mother smiled.

Josephine offered a hand. "I'm Josie."

"Dr. Mary Sawyer." I replied coolly.

"We know! Catherine Sawyer's brainy cousin." Debby said.

I smiled. "She did get the looks, didn't she?" I looked off over her shoulder.

"Dr. Sawyer!"

I spun to face an old psychology professor of mine, a Dr. Nancy Carol. "Professor Carol, it is wonderful to see you."

"One of my favourite students," She supplied, smiling serenely at Lisa, Debby, and Josie. "Mind if I borrow her?" Without waiting for a reply, she whisked me away to a group of my old friends and classmates, standing awkwardly at the side.

"Biggest shindig in Utah, 'course everyone's here." Jake was saying.

Meghan rolled her eyes. "Shindig? Jacob Harper, PhD, can't think of a better word than shindig."

"Americans," I said wisely. "How are you all?"

Donald beamed and pushed his glasses up, grabbing Albert's hand. "Guess what! Soon as we move to California, me and Al are getting married!"

"Congratulations," I replied.

Meghan offered me a flute of champagne. "Come on, Mary, it's your 21st birthday. Live a little."

"I'd rather drink something a lot stronger in a bar in London, thanks."

"When are you flying back out?" Professor Carol asked.

I'd lived in London for two years now. "Oh, end of the week."

"You should make everyone fly to England next year, instead of dragging yourself back to America." Jake said.

"And miss my birthday hike?" I said, feigning horror. "Never!"

"What do you do on that hike, anyway?" Meghan asked.

"Walk around. Watch the sun set. Eat peanut butter and fluff sandwiches."

Wait for the Doctor.

X-x-X-x-X (Approximately 6.2 million light years away and 32,849 Earth years in the future) X-x-X-x-X

"You're _dead_."

Even after four years, he was still getting the shocked looks. This time was from a Roxicoricofallaptorian warlord on a the edge of cliff.

"I had more important things to do," The Doctor grinned.

"Like what?"

"This," The Doctor said, and jumped off the cliff. "GERONIMO!"

X-x-X-x-X

"So, Dr. Sawyer," One of Catherine's friends said. "How long do we have until we're ready to start living out there in space?"

"From an astrophysical standpoint, there are inhabitable planets within the travelling distance using technology that will be available within the next five decades or so, most likely. Also, we aren't far from being able to launch self-sustaining space stations that can maintain continuous orbit around the Earth.

"However, from a psychologist's point of view, we're not ready. Look what we've done to this planet—do you think we should really be set loose on the entire universe?"

She drained her sherry, then with a giggle, "What about aliens?"

"They exist." I said calmly, swiping her keys and putting them on a passing tray.

I was just about to steer her to a cab when—

_CRASH!_

Glass shattered and I stepped between her and the windows instinctively, spinning her around. "Get down," I hissed. "Cover your head."

She cowered and I looked around desperately.

Professor Carol was ushering people out of the now-foggy room, trying to get them into the windowless hallways. I hoped I was that sort of old lady when I was over eighty years old—kind and grandmotherly, but intelligent and level-headed.

"Who speaks for this planet?" A baritone voice boomed.

A huge, looming, humanoid shape became visible in the fog.

"Wh—what do you mean?" Donald stuttered.

The figure, a tall man with corded muscles, turned to fix him with entirely black eyes. "Who is chief of this gathering?"

Catherine had planned this. Someone would point to her, sooner or later, and I couldn't lose her now, not after all this. And it was my birthday party.

"Hi," I squeaked, and then cleared my throat so I could speak more forcefully. "Hello. My name is Dr. Mary Sawyer."

Those horrible black eyes fixed on me. "You are a healer?" He said.

"Just an expert in astrophysics. May I ask what you're called?"

"My name is not to be formed by your pathetic mouths."

"Riiiiight. Okay. What about your species? Where are you from?"

"I am a god to be worshipped."

That's how religion came up the second time I met the Doctor. He would later explain that some aliens, being so terrifyingly superior in their technology, became the basis of what we later called gods. This usually led to their own twisted belief that they were a god.

I didn't ask him if that included lonely wandering Time Lords.

I didn't want to know.

"Okay, so that's why you're here?"

"I demand your total adoration."

I nodded slowly. "That's nice, I suppose. But you have to understand, humans are very independent creatures, and we have our own gods. I can't promise you any number of followers."

There was a terrible silence in which I had to lock my knees to keep them from giving out. I didn't think me passing out would help with aliens.

"Those who will not worship will die." He said finally.

I suddenly felt a lot less shaky and a lot more in control. "I was afraid you'd say that." I replied.

Glancing to my right, I ascertained that Professor Carol had gotten everyone but me and her out of the main room.

"We're going to have to decline and say _do your worst_."

"Oh, never say _do your worst_." A familiar voice rang out. "I mean, really, it's like begging them to kill you."

"Doctor!" I said, spinning around.

He was standing there, just as I remembered him. His bowtie was a very dark red today, and he was smiling.

"Hello, Mary Sawyer! Now, if you don't mind… DUCK!"

I ducked down and the black-eyed alien missed me with his laser gun. The Doctor pointed a weird buzzing tool at him, and the alien howled.

"I've locked his gun, but it'll only work for… fifty three seconds. Come on!"

I grabbed his hand and ran across the glass-coated floor with him. Professor Carol was waiting at the door, and closed it behind us.

He waved the buzzy tool again. "That should give us a little more time… providing he's too angry to think of blasting the door into oblivion."

"We'll count on that," I said.

Professor Carol waved us on. "Well, don't stop to prattle on! We have to _go_."

The Doctor beamed as she strode off. "I like her," He told me, pointing at her excitedly.

"Everyone does."


	3. Chapter 3

"What do we do?" Catherine hissed.

We were hiding in a broom closet with the guests who hadn't escaped—Donald, Albert, Catherine, Aunt Margaret, and Professor Carol—while the Doctor fussed around with the tool.

"No idea." The Doctor said.

"What is that thing out there?" She said.

"Also no idea."

"And who are you?"

He spun around with a huge grin, hands in the air. "Oh! I know that one. I'm the Doctor."

"Oh, that makes everything better!" Catherine snapped.

"Cathy," I said quietly. "Calm down."

"Do you know him?" She demanded.

I shrugged, awkward. Professor Carol laid a hand on my shoulder. "Maybe you'd like to explain what's going on?"

"Well, there's an alien in the room down the hall who wants all of humankind to worship him. That's the Doctor, he's an alien too, but he's alright—he cured Cathy. And… well, I really don't know what else."

"_Humans _are God's chosen people. There are no _aliens_. He's a demon, just like the one outside, and he just took credit for the miracle that the Lord—"

"Mom, shut up," Cathy said.

She began singing "Amazing Grace" in a shaky voice, and even the Doctor was distracted.

I grabbed her wrists and pulled her to face me. "Aunt Margaret, listen to me. This man flies through time and space in a blue box that's bigger on the inside. He's from a planet far away and trust me when I say this universe is so much bigger than you think.

"The _known_ universe is so big you couldn't possibly wrap your head around it. The unknown universe is exponentially larger. If the known universe, the impossibly big known universe, were the size of a US quarter, the rest of the universe would be at least the size of the Earth. And it's probably bigger later or earlier in time.

"So you'd better accept that we're not the biggest things out there. We're just one colony of bacteria in the ocean. Maybe there's a god. I don't _care_. The point is that you can't accept one story and reject anything that goes against it. Welcome to the real world."

"Schooled," Albert whispered.

"No fighting," The Doctor ordered. "I refuse to have fighting companions. Alright, gang! I have a gang. _Again_. This is getting out of hand… Um, give me another minute, I'll figure it out."

"Oh, and the alien's insane," Donald said, throwing his hands into the air.

Professor Carol smiled. "All of the best people are."

The Doctor turned around and leaned his back against the door, looking at the professor while he tossed the tool up and caught it again. I recognised the sadness.

"Whatever you're thinking, stop it," I said. "I'm serious."

"There's only one exit," He replied.

"And it's past the creature outside, yes?" Professor Carol asked. "I volunteer."

I looked between them. "For _what_?"

"To draw the fire," The Doctor said.

"Absolutely not!"

"I'm 73, but I can still run. Am I correct that you can fix this if we can escape this closet, Doctor?"

"Please Doctor, there's got to be something else we can do!"

He shook his head. "There isn't. I have to be able to reach his ship, so I can cut off the connection between him and the nitrogen—he's obviously a nitrogen based life form. But I won't let you go," He added to the professor.

"But don't you have to be there with the tool?" Donald pointed out.

The Doctor handed me the odd cylindrical object. "No. Mary can do it."

Professor Carol stared him down. "Young man, I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself when—"

"I'm old," The Doctor interrupted. "I'm on borrowed time. Half the universe wants me dead. I'm so old."

"Maybe in human terms. But you've still got time to live, and so much to do. I, on the other hand, have terminal cancer."

"What?" I said, voice jumping at least an octave.

"This isn't up for negotiation," The Doctor half-shouted.

"You may be from another world, but this is Earth, and this is America," The professor said. "We'll take a vote. The dying human without any family or the alien who can perform miracles: which of us should draw the fire?"

"God save us all," Margaret whispered.

I frowned at my old professor, ignoring my aunt. "If you're doing this out of some sense of misplaced obligation to younger generations, I assure you, it's unfounded. I'll go. The Doctor can fix cancer—can't you, Doctor?"

"Not after a certain point," The Doctor admitted.

"It's a tumour pressing against my cerebral cortex. Inoperable. I'll be in a lot of pain within a month. I was going to tell you kids tomorrow night."

"Do you remember," Albert cut in, "When we discussed human rights in your class?"

"Yes," Professor Carol said.

"We all said we were for the right to die," Donald said.

"We're almost out of time," The Doctor said. "I'm so sorry."

I swallowed. "Anyone but the Doctor," I said firmly. "Professor, are you sure?"

"I suppose it's about time you called me Nancy," She said.

"Nancy or the Doctor?" Donald asked us.

Albert slipped his hand into Donald's. "Nancy," He choked out.

"I vote for me," The Doctor said.

"And I vote for me," Nancy smiled calmly.

"Nancy," Donald said.

"Well, I vote for me," Catherine said. "I've lived long past what I ever expected."

"Send him," Margaret hissed.

I turned slowly on the spot. "Hey, Aunt Marge, I'm bisexual. Well, actually, pansexual. I was dating my 'friend' Abby for most of the time I was in college."

"Abby?" Donald asked. "Your roommate?"

"Made things very, ah, _convenient_."

Albert snorted, and Nancy outright laughed.

"Great timing," Catherine said. "Just slipped your coming out into another disaster, flawlessly avoided."

"And I vote Nancy," I said. "That's four for Nancy, two for the Doctor, and one for Catherine."

"Shall we?" Nancy asked.

Nancy Carol did die that day. She made it several metres and actually managed to engage the alien in conversation long enough for the Doctor to cut off his breathing tube. When he realised he'd been duped, he shot Nancy. Other dead included Debra and Catherine's drunk friend. Margaret would hang herself a year later, blaming me and the Doctor for her death. I deleted the email that contained her suicide note and I never told the Doctor about it.

The Doctor activated the self destruct on the ship and got into his box and flew away. Donald and Albert got married—I barely made it for the ceremony, but I managed it in the end. Catherine got a gig starring in a new television drama. As for me, well, I got to see the stars up close.

I met a man on the shore of a lake in Utah. A strange, wonderful man. I asked him to save me, and he did. He told me about the stars, and I looked up at them every night for four years afterwards. I looked at the biggest photograph in history, a black expanse dotted with light. These lights, from pinpricks of white in the distance to smears of gold in the forefront, were each a galaxy. And that was just those galaxies we were close enough to see.

I met a man on the shore of a lake in Utah. And four years later, he took me to see the stars.

TBC


End file.
